The Ones We Choose
by TitansRule
Summary: Family can be blood-related. But sometimes - often - it is made up of the ones we choose to be a part of it. After Miss Fisher departs to fly her father back to England, her chosen family awaits her return and comes to realise that they aren't just her family - they are each other's family too.


**I have no flipping clue where this is going. I just finished watching all three series on Netflix (dear God, how did it evade me for so long) and was thoroughly disappointed that there was no more. And if you've read my other work, you all know what a sucker I am for the Found Family trope.**

* * *

The new Mrs Dorothy Collins hummed to herself as she let herself in through the back door of the house that had been her home for the last few years, yet was no longer.

It had been such a lovely shock, after their hastily arranged wedding, when Bert and Cec drove them to the front door of a little cottage, far smaller than the bungalow they had been planning on sharing with Hugh's mother but _theirs, _with no houseguests or dramas.

Hugh had admitted, red-faced, that the cottage was partly a wedding gift from their friends - even Mrs Stanley had chipped in. She knew her husband had been hoping to provide them with a home all by himself, but even a Senior Constable had his limits, and she had been very quick to assure him that it didn't matter to her how many people had helped; if anything, it was all the more special for that.

And she didn't have to live with Hugh's mother.

At some point, they would have to make peace with Mrs Collins - and her own mother as well. Neither of the women had attended their wedding - although Miss Fisher had once again managed to completely stun Dot by dispatching Bert and Cec to locate her sister.

Nell - _Lola_ her mind corrected again - had almost cried when she saw Dorothy in her wedding dress, which in turn had nearly set Dot off.

There was no time to think about that today, however.

In spite of Miss Fisher's absence, her honeymoon was over and the house still needed to be turned over.

"Good morning Dorothy," Mr Butler greeted cheefully, as she lifted the whistling teakettle from the hob.

"Good morning Mr Butler," Dot said, setting out the cups. "Could I impose on you to put together a basket for Hugh? I thought I'd take him some lunch today, and I haven't touched the silverware in weeks."

"No trouble at all, my dear," Mr Butler said. "Have you heard from Miss Fisher?"

"She telegrammed yesterday," Dot said. "She's reached London, at least, without tipping her father out of the plane."

"Well, that certainly took some restraint," Mr Butler muttered.

Dot couldn't help nodding in agreement.

Henry Fisher had seemed perfectly charming when he first arrived, but there was something about the way Miss Fisher lost all composure around him that unsettled Dorothy.

Miss Fisher never lost her composure around a man like that. She grew angry, of course, but there was something in her eyes when she dealt with her father - like a child awaiting a blow.

"She's staying in London for a few weeks," Dot continued. "Her mother has several events she wants her to attend."

"In that case," Mr Butler said gently, "I'm sure Miss Fisher would not begrudge you some time to set up your new home."

Dot took a sip of her tea. "She wouldn't," she agreed quietly, "but I've done it. Hugh and I don't have a lot of possessions, Mr Butler. I'm making some curtains, and I want to sew a quilt, but that can be done in the evening, after dinner." She smiled. "It's become a little routine for us. After the dishes are cleaned, we sit by the fire; Hugh reads a book and I get out my sewing. Sometimes he reads aloud to me. I couldn't just sit and sew all day though - I'd get bored."

Mr Butler patted her arm. "Of course, my dear. I'm always happy to see you."

"Thank you, Mr Butler," Dot said. "And thank you as well for the lovely hamper that was left in our kitchen on our wedding night."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean Mrs Collins," the man said, his eyes twinkling.

Dot beamed at him. "I know what your scones taste like, Mr Butler. It was very thoughtful and very appreciated. Hugh was starving - I don't think he ate that morning for nerves, the poor darling." She hesitated over her tea. "Mr Butler, I don't suppose it would be too much trouble to make up two baskets? Hugh's always said that the Inspector is one for missing meals if he's working on a case."

"Of course, Dorothy," Mr Butler said. "That's very thoughtful of you."

And so, that lunchtime, Dorothy Collins entered the City South police station with two wicker baskets.

Hugh was behind the front desk. He glanced up when she entered, and his professional stance gave way to a more relaxed one. "Dottie!"

"Hello, Hugh," Dot said, setting the baskets on the desk. "I thought you could do with some lunch."

Hugh laughed, leaning across the desk to kiss her. "What would I do without you?"

"Starve probably," Dot said with a laugh. "Anything interesting?"

"Not really," Hugh answered. "Couple of jewel thefts; nothing out of the ordinary. Suspect is pretty obvious; should have him in by the end of the day, and I will be home on time."

"Oh good," Dot said. "Dinner won't be too late then, and I might get those curtains done by the end of the week."

Hugh nodded, but he looked a little distracted.

"Hugh?" Dot asked gently. "What's wrong?"

Hugh sighed. "I miss you."

Dot smiled. "Well, we have spent the last few weeks in each other's company. It's natural. It was nice of the Inspector to let you have so much time off."

"I did have a lot saved up," Hugh said. "But I meant … I meant at crime scenes. I miss you not being there."

Dot frowned. "I thought you didn't like it when I worked with Miss Fisher."

"I … I didn't," Hugh admitted. "I mean … I would have … Times are changing, Dottie; if you wanted to carry on, I would have supported you entirely. But I didn't think I'd really have been okay with it, but … I miss it."

Dot smiled. "So when Miss Fisher comes back, if anything comes up …"

"Please come and help me take notes," Hugh said earnestly.

"That sounds like a deal to me," Dot said. "Is the Inspector in? I brought him some lunch as well."

"Um … yeah, he's in, and I'm fairly sure he's alone." Hugh came around the desk and opened the gate for her, before going to knock on the office door. "Inspector? Miss … er, Mrs Collins to see you."

Dot giggled, even as Inspector Robinson called her in, adding, "Forgotten already, Senior Constable?"

"No, sir, I just …" Hugh's stammers were interrupted by the phone ringing. "I'll get that, sir."

"Lovely to see you, Mrs Collins," Jack Robinson said, as the door closed behind her. "Please don't tell me that you've taken to finding dead bodies in Miss Fisher's absence."

"Nothing like that," Dot said hastily, setting the second basket on his desk. "I was bringing Hugh some lunch and … I thought maybe you might like lunch as well."

Jack smiled widely. "That's very thoughtful, Dorothy, thank you. I probably would have worked right through." He hesitated. "Have you heard from Miss Fisher at all?"

"She's reached London," Dot answered. "She'll be home in a few weeks."

"Good," Jack murmured. "That's good."

"Inspector?" Dot asked, a little hesitantly. "Is … Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Jack said slowly, "however I would like, if I may, to ask for some advice."

Dot's eyebrows rose in surprise, but she sank into the chair on the other side of the desk with as much poise as she could must. "I'd be happy to help."

Jack leaned across his desk, lowering his voice. "Before Miss … Before Phryne left, I met her at the airfield, just before take off. She asked me to come after her. Do you think she meant it?"

Dot stared at him in surprise. She knew that Miss Fisher was attracted to Inspector Robinson - if she was totally honest, she could completely understand it (although he wasn't Hugh, and Hugh was all she could ever have dreamed of) but to ask that … "Yes," she said finally. "Miss Fisher doesn't … She doesn't chase, and she doesn't ask to chase. She just … If you follow, then you follow. If she asked … she meant it, Jack. Definitely."

His given name slipped out, but neither of them acknowledged it. Once upon a time, the thought of using anything other than his title would have given her extreme cause for embarrassment, but this was the man who had stood at Hugh's side when he married her, the man who spent far more time at Miss Fisher's home than at his own, who Jane playfully called 'Uncle Jack' and who had embraced her at her wedding and told her she made a beautiful bride.

Surely they were on first name terms by now.

Jack heaved a sigh. "I was afraid you'd say that. I can't."

Dot frowned. "Can't go after her? Why not?"

"I can't get the time off," Jack said tiredly. "Hugh was different," he added before she could protest. "He had time saved up, we allow a honeymoon period anyway, and I pulled some strings so you could have a little more time together."

Dot turned a little pink. "Thank you," she whispered. "That was …"

"The least I could do," Jack said, giving her a smile. "He's one of the best officers I've worked with. And with all the mess with your families …" he faltered. "You deserved at least one break. Hugh, however, is not detective inspector. And with everything that went on with Sanderson … no detective inspector is getting any holiday time for at least the next few months."

"Write to her," Dot said immediately. "Tell her that you want to, but you can't. She'll understand, but you have to tell her. Otherwise, she'll assume you don't want her."

"When has any man not wanted her?" Jack asked.

Dot smiled. "It's different this time. You're not just 'any man'. I think it scares her more than spiders do. Write to her." She stood. "I have a few errands to run if I'm to have dinner ready by the time Hugh gets home. Enjoy your lunch."

"I will," Jack said. "Thank you for the advice - and for thinking of me." He saw her out to the main station, and then returned to his office to give the young couple a chance for privacy before she went on her way.

Sitting back at his desk, he withdrew one of Mr Butler's excellent sandwiches and reached for a clean sheet of paper.

_Miss Fisher_ … he began, then stopped.

No, that wasn't right at all.

_Dear Phryne …_

Jack crossed that out too.

Surely it hadn't been this difficult writing to Rosie during the war.

Then again, he hadn't really had time to dwell on his letters.

_Darling …_

No - they weren't there yet.

Maybe his first instinct was right after all.

_Miss Fisher_

_I am reliably informed that your request that I come after you was not, as I had feared, a flippant remark, regretted once in the air._

_Incidentally, Mrs Collins seems to have taken over your determination to ensure I eat three square meals a day. Did you have words with her, before you left?_

_Not that I complaining, mind you - Mr Butler, as always, has outdone himself._

_Were I able, I would be on the first boat to England. Dorothy tells me you have arrived safely and will be staying a few weeks more. Likely I would arrive just as you were packing up to leave, but that would, at least, bring us together sooner than waiting here in Melbourne._

_Unfortunately, Sanderson's ghosts have yet to leave us, and I have been denied any leave. Short of losing my job, and I think we would both agree that a hasty decision, I have no choice but to remain where I am._

_Please be assured that I am counting down the days until I see you again._

_Yours_

_Jack_


End file.
